


It's Gonna Keep Coming Up

by Healy



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (kinda), Demonic Possession, Drabble Sequence, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Horror, Post-Canon, Stan O' War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Healy/pseuds/Healy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"HELLO, STANLEY. KNOW WHY I’M HERE?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>"Because I punched you dead and you still haven’t realized?"</em>
</p><p>After Weirdmageddon, Stan just wants to put all that triangle nonsense behind him and get on with his life. Bill has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Gonna Keep Coming Up

**Author's Note:**

> Expanded from a drabble written for a 31_days prompt from May: "I am incomplete, and you are only half-alive."

It took Stan a while to recognize the thing in the fridge, and not just because he was recovering from amnesia. The large eye surrounded by tendons and viscera blinked at him.

“Hello, Bill,” said Stan. “You’ve looked better.”

“YOu hAvEN’T seEEN THE LAsT OF me, sTANLey,” Bill slathered. “ONCe I’VE fULLy REGeNERATED…”

“Screw you, pal! I did not recover my memory just to be hassled by some dream nacho!”

“ToO bAD, BECausE I’VE GOT pLans— WaIT, WHAt’S haPPeniNG?!” With a sudden “plomph!” the fridge transformed into a cartoony safe, complete with padlocked chains.

Stan sighed. “I need a beer.”

* * *

The next time he met Bill, he was already at sea, with Ford. He was watching the waves in his dream turn orange and purple and teal, when…

“HELLO again, STANley!” A giant eye rose from the sea, ringed by formless yellow. “AWFULLY nice HERE. WHAtcha…”

“Go away, Bill,” said Stan. “Don’t have time to deal with you right now.”

“WELL, you can’t HIDE me away FOREVer,” taunted Bill. “IT’S GONNA keep COMING…” But he was interrupted by a tidal wave that consumed everything, leaving only Stan behind.

The next morning, Ford asked if he slept well. Stan said nothing.

* * *

Their third meeting, Stan was laid up, his left arm fractured after a fight. He was drifting in and out of consciousness when the lights blew out. An eerie yellow glow filled the room.

“BEEN A WHILE,” said Bill. Cracks covered his body.

“Heheh, what happened to you? Get run over by a bus?”

“COMEDY. _DROLL_. KNOW WHY I’M HERE, STANLEY?”

“Because I punched you dead and you still haven’t realized?”

“DEATH IS JUST A ROADBLOCK!” said Bill. “BESIDES, I NOTICED YOU BROKE YOUR PUNCHING ARM.”

“What, this one?” Stan raised his right arm.

“FAIR ENOUGH,” said Bill. He disappeared.

* * *

After that, Stan saw more and more Bill in his dreams. Sometimes he caught just a brief glimpse; others, it was something more… serious.

“I COULD TAKE OVER, Y’KNOW,” said Bill, taunting Stan one night. “CLIMB THE TOP BUNK, STRANGLE YOUR BROTHER IN HIS SLEEP. MAYBE KILL THE KIDS, TOO.”

“Liar,” said Stan.

“WHAT, DON’T BELIEVE ME?”

“Oh, sure, you _could_. But you haven’t. So I figure, you can’t.”

Bill stared at Stan, pensive. “YOU’RE SMARTER THAN YOU LOOK. BUT THE SITUATION’S ABOUT TO CHANGE. ENJOY YOUR FISHING TRIP WHILE IT LASTS, SUCKER.”

And that was when Stan woke up.

* * *

Stan tried not to think about that night, but it kept butting into his head. Whenever he needed least to remember that some demon was living inside him, had threatened his family, the dream would be there, taunting him. Still, a crooked salesman was a crooked salesman, so chances were good Bill was lying back there.

Then, one night, after a particularly violent nightmare, he woke up to find himself pouring hydrogen peroxide into Ford’s whiskey bottles. He dumped the whole lot into the ocean.

“Where did all my whiskey go?” Ford asked that morning.

“Drank it all,” Stan lied.

* * *

“Alright, Bill!” Stan shouted. “I’ve had it with you!”

There was no reply. Bill hadn’t shown up since the whiskey incident, but that didn’t stop Stan from searching.

“C’mon! I know you’re in here! Come out so I can punch you again, you little three-sided asshole!”

Still nothing.

“What, you think this is funny? Is using my body to kill my family just some joke to you? Because I can wipe that smug grin right off… Well, no, you don’t have a mouth exactly.”

Stan stood there, watching, waiting. He thought he heard laughter, Bill’s laughter, but he wasn’t sure.

* * *

Finally, it happened. Stan was working on the deck, listening to Ford drone on about a Winter Storm Draco, when something _shoved_ him out of his mind. He watched his hands grab Ford and push him over the railing, felt the spray from the splash dimly. He tried to retake control, _let me back in, you evil triangle!_ But the presence stayed.

 _C’mon,_ he thought, _you can’t let Ford die! He’s your brother and you love him--_

\-- _you love him_ \--

The presence relented. Stan threw out a lifebuoy and dragged Ford in. He got his phone out.

“Hello, emergency services?”

* * *

_Ford:  
We need to talk. Bill issues. Meet me at K’nuckles’ when they let you out.  
-Stan_

Ford stared at the note. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier, Stanley?” He didn’t sound angry, just tired.

“Hell if I know now.” Stan gulped down his beer. “So, we rebuilding the memory gun or…?”

“Out of the question. We’re not losing you again.” Ford sipped his whiskey. “I’ve got a demonologist friend in Baltimore. He’ll know what to do.”

Before they left, Ford asked how Stan regained control from Bill. So Stan told him.

“Hold on to that feeling. Maybe it’ll help.”

* * *

“Hey, Bill,” said Stan. “How’s tricks?”

Bill groaned.

“What, no snappy comebacks? That ain’t the demon I know.” Stan grinned. “So Ford thinks you must’ve used some botched resurrection spell, kept you trapped in my mind. We’re seeing the demonologist next month, so--”

“Stanley,” said Bill, “shut up. _Please_.”

“Whassa matter?”

Bill rubbed his eye. “It’s that _feeling_ you’re shutting me out with. I can’t think!”

“It’s called ‘love’, dumbass. You never felt it before?”

“Not for a couple eons, no.”

 _Geez_. Stan almost pitied Bill. _Well, what the hell, it’s my mind_ (always a reassuring thought).

“Need a beer?”

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to CaramelShadows and Daniel for the beta. Special thanks as well to the folks over at Euphoria &if, who helped me with some research for the fic.
> 
> The Winter Storm Draco mention is a reference to one of my favorite Ryan Veeder games, [Winter Storm Draco](http://ifdb.tads.org/viewgame?id=yeriagiwygnuvbhh) (natch). I imagine Ford is discussing the events documented by the game here.


End file.
